Even When
by WolfyMagician
Summary: Even when he's an evil and sadistic tyrant, she loves him. Even if he uses her for his sick deeds, she loves him. He doesn't have to be the way he's portrayed as in the movie. She'd still die for him. Crazily enough, he might just love her back. Jally. AU


**Even When**

* * *

He is_ not_ pleased.

After waking up at _three in the freaking_ _morning_ during the coldest day of winter, only to faced with news like this, who would _really_ be happy? Is it that joyful to learn that they lost the treasures to the rebellion after years and years of defending it?

_Really?_

"Mayor, I cannot even begin to describe how _close_ to _beheading_ you right now I am—"

"W-with all due respect, Your Majesty, I swear that we were fighting with all our—"

"_Shut up._ Was I done? Never interrupt me." Jack Skellington clears his throat as he grips the handle of his sword tightly, growling softly under his breath. Beside him, a figure shifts its weight and coos at him soothingly. He ignores this. "You stupid two-faced politician! You come _begging_ on your knees to lead this mission, making me overlook all the other good generals in this kingdom, just to _lose_ pathetically?"

The large ghoul trembles, fear shining brightly in his nervous white face. "I—I apologize, my lord! Give me another chance! If we regroup a new army, I'm sure we can—"

Suddenly, a sharp dagger is flung at him and it barely misses his foot. Squealing in horror, Mayor jumps backwards and falls on his back.

"I want you _OUT OF HERE_!" roars the king impatiently, brandishing his long, pointed sword. "If I see you in this castle—no, this _kingdom_ again, I swear I will personally _split_ your two faces into separate parts!"

And so, without further ado, the ghoul in question runs off in hysterics, tears threatening to fall.

Panting slightly, the skeleton tyrant plops down on his golden throne, eyeing the dagger stuck to the floor in distaste. If he wasn't so mad, he would've gotten that through the idiot's foot...

"My lord?" asks a soft voice to his right, causing him to smirk, "are you alright?"

"Oh yes," he replies sarcastically, glancing coldly at the shadow nearing him, "I'm perfectly content. You know how much I enjoy losing, Sally..."

"No need to get worked up about it," the rag-doll sniffles mockingly. She bows to him before kneeling in front of his throne.

"Yes, well..." He gestures for her to come nearer and she understands immediately. Quickly, she slides onto his lap and begins to delicately massage his shoulders. Rolling his eye-sockets, he leans forward to give her more access. After about five minutes of this, he pushes her hands away and hungrily claims her lips for a rough kiss. As usual, he bites down on her lip and tongue, drawing blood. And as usual, she makes no complaints and willingly offers herself to him. With a huff, he pulls the top of her dress down (along with the garments underneath) and proceeds to bite at her large, beautifully crafted breasts. She makes no sound and simply sits there, stroking his neck and skull. When he finishes, he shoves her off him and leaves her on the floor to wipe the blood off.

* * *

Jack _never_ cries.

Sally knows this, and so she respects him.

_She_ cries, though, even if it isn't much. She remembers the first time she cried in front of him was when they were both ten and Jack wanted to know what those adult nocturnal activities were. Since birth, it seemed they were set to always be together, but as master and slave. And at that time, she was just as willing to please him as she is now. So that night, when they retreated into Jack's private chamber, all alone, she had stripped naked in front of him and allowed him to do whatever he wanted to her. He had actually torn his clothes off, as well, and he managed to insert himself in her. It had hurt, and she had cried.

After that, they never stopped. If Jack felt like it, then it was as good as _done_.

And she has stopped crying during those acts. She simply purses her lips and shuts her eyes, but on the inside, she cries every time.

* * *

He is with another duchess that evening

Sally pretends not to care, and she hopes she doesn't, but no matter what, a nagging feeling in the back of her mind continues to prod at her as she works. Dinner is in a few minutes, and she is ordered to wait on the king and his lady guest. As the most refined and respected _maid-slash-personal servant_ in the castle, she is constantly asked to be the server during important meals. That night is no exception. Wearing her best dress (black lacings, white silk apron, enough cleaving showing to entertain Jack but not enough to draw attention, etcetera) she pulls her hair into a simple, messy bun, leaving a few strands on the sides to properly frame her face, and enters the kitchen. She washes her hands before slipping on the standard white gloves.

When she reaches the grand and spacious dining hall, pushing the silver cart of hearty food along, she notices that the woman in front of Jack is extremely gorgeous; curly blonde locks, perfect face...the works.

He is usually with _those_ types anyway, but why should she even care?

It's not as if it bothers her..._right_?

She politely bows and proceeds to lay out the first course. The skeleton leers at her greedily as she works around him, carefully setting plates down here and there. Several times, he stares at her chest.

Dinner is over soon enough, and Sally forces herself not to scowl when she hears the lady suggest spending the night.

At her room, however, Jack surprises her with a visit. Only he has a key to her chamber (not including herself) so he can see he whenever he wishes to do so. That evening, he slips inside just as she emerges from the bathroom after a nice, warm shower. She somewhat expected him. _Somewhat._

Her robe is thrown somewhere and she is lying warily on her back, watching the king tie her hands and feet to the bedposts.

"I'm punishing you," he murmurs as he tightens the knot of the cloth binding her limbs, "and you're sneaky little tricks."

"What did I do?" Sally demands, but she doesn't sound worried in the least. If anything, she is amused.

"You're the reason I can't be with another woman, no matter how pretty they look and feel..."

And she laughs.

"That's not my fault."

The night goes on...

* * *

Neither of them have any real friends besides the other.

Jack does not believe he can trust anyone except Sally, because they have been friends since birth and her purpose of life is to serve_ him_.

Sally does not have friends because Jack would constantly keep them away from her. If there is someone she speaks to on a regular basis—with conversations _not_ related to cleaning the castle and worshipping their tyrant—Sally will find them mysteriously gone one day and never to return. This is true especially with males; every single one who tried to flirt with her vanished a few hours after doing so.

Jack is strict like that.

And, after sending one of her 'friends' to who-knows-where, the Pumpkin King would take her aside and punish her. He would not give a reason, and frankly, she never questioned it.

Even so, they will _always_ be friends.

* * *

Love is the last thing they ever think about.

Jack _hates_ the idea. He knows that love is a sick disease that will slowly kill someone if they don't have it treated (as in, let go). To him, it is simply a vulnerability. If he ever loves, he is sure an enemy might use the beloved as ransom for his throne.

He will _never_ do that. The beloved can just go _die_.

Sally, on the other hand, _does_ believe in love, but she prefers to _avoid_ it. For one, she is sure any ghoul Jack finds out she loves will inevitably be tortured and killed. She will _not_ waste a good afterlife for the sick purpose of being in love.

He doesn't have to worry. She loves the one demon he will never hurt.

_Himself._

She'll never let him know, though. Jack once made her promise not to love him, or anybody else for that matter. He thinks it will ruin their strong partnership if she develops feelings for him.

And _he_ does not want to fall in love with_ her_ in return.

No, they are fine with...whatever they are now.

With love, a connection is made. It is strong, unbreakable, and deadly.

He is all that already, but he does not require love.

Sally...well, she's_ almost_ that good.

* * *

_"Will you die for the prince?"_ is what she was asked years and years ago at five. She grew up serving Jack Skellington, so her only memories of childhood included waiting on him and letting him take her share of candy on Halloween. Oh, and the intimate touching. She _definitely_ knows that.

But really, her_ reason_ to live _is_ because of_ him_. At five, she barely understood that question, and even so, she answered with a whole-hearted _"Of course!"_

And she is serious. Jack has had his share of dark and pointless requests, but does she even doubt them? No. Does she ask him why? No.

She just does whatever she's told.

And she'll hurt for him, despite her pacifistic view on things. When the citizens begun spreading rumors that Jack killed his father and siblings to succeed as king, she made sure all the offenders were punished painfully.

Mutiny. A lot of souls were burned at the stake secretly that night.

Sally hates hearing Jack being bad-mouthed. And how_ dare_ they accuse him of killing off his whole family!

He didn't do that.

He ordered _her_ to.

* * *

When the kingdom falls apart, the first thing he says is, "Well, at least everyone is going down with us."

He says "_us,"_ even if it should just be_ "me"._

Did Sally burn down the neighboring kingdom for no apparent reason? No, Jack did.

Did Sally have the army seize the other royal families and throw them into the lake? No, Jack did.

Did she declare war on everybody? No, Jack did.

Yet he acts as though they somehow plotted everything together, as one mind.

She'll still stick with him, even if leaving_ won't_ yield unwanted consequences.

He's no longer powerful.

They are in his throne room, the large double doors barred with furniture and the windows shut and covered.

The Pumpkin King casually whistles a tune as she sits tiredly, listening to the ruckus outside.

His royal army has turned on him, and the whole palace is evacuated.

Even so, Sally remains, and he glances at her finally. "You leaving?"

It isn't a question; it is more of a nonchalant statement. Or maybe he's giving her an option...

"No," she replies anyway, except with her, she_ isn't_ calm and indifferent. Instead, she fears for their lives. She doesn't want_ him_ hurt.

"Hmm."

"What are we going to do?"

"Nothing, really. If they want me to die, then so be it."

"I don't want you to die."

"Oh,_ well_."

Outside, they hear more noises and the distant sound of several heavy footsteps. A large_** bang**_ resounds as the room shakes slightly, and Sally knows the doors are being rammed open.

_"Will you die for the prince?"_

She will.

The rag-doll determinedly grabs his hands and yanks him to the hidden emergency chamber at the corner of the room. It unlocks with soft click after she presents it with her blood (her hand is now cut). The door hisses open, fog accompanying it, and she shoves the king inside. She takes his crown and dons it on herself.

"What are you—?" he begins, but she cuts him off with a soothing _"Shhh..."_

Sally reaches into a cabinet beside them and pulls out a vial. She opens it and, in one swift motion, drinks the whole thing. Jack merely watches in morbid fascination.

"There's an escape hatch if you keep walking further down," she tells him hurriedly, knowing their time is short, "pick up a few weapons down there, too. But wait till everything is over with."

"Sally—"

She silences him with a final kiss, and as she pulls back, her entire appearance morphs into his, until another Jack Skellington faces him.

"Goodbye." Her voice remains so, but she clears her throat and it sounds like him now.

_"Wait—!"_

The door is shut, and he pounds away at it. Deep down, he knows his attempts are futile, and when he vaguely hears the army charging into the room, yelling at the "king" to remain as he is, Jack falls down to his knees and cries for the very first time.

He knew it.

_He fell in love with Sally after all._

* * *

Years pass, as they usually do, but for the old tyrant, it is endless. In honor of his dead friend, he picks up a life completely different from his past—he is the owner of a gift basket shop.

He uses Sally's old ideas to craft exquisite baskets, and he fills them with treats she used to love and share with him. He names the store "Jack and Sally's."

Nobody questions him.

He has her picture inside a locket. It is always slung around his neck.

He misses her, and if he hadn't felt that committing suicide would make her reason for dying in vain, then he would've done so already.

Jack has never been more displeased.

But now, nobody will be there to kiss him better.

* * *

He walks silently to the graveyard as he usually does every evening. Spiral Hill...he's never really seen it before until recently.

He climbs it, and for once, he stops at the top. The moon shines brightly, a full circle.

His mind begins to wander...

_After an endless amount of time sobbing for his friend, he realizes that it is completely silent outside. He tries to open the door again, but to no avail. Instead, he remembers her directions and he hurries down a pathway he hasn't bothered to notice before. Like she said, there is a small door at the corner, big enough for him to slip through. On the wall to his left is an assortment of deadly weapons, some of which he never knew existed. As he prefers, he grabs a dagger and stashes it in the side of his belt. His hand reaches for a lengthy sword when he spots a dark piece of fabric folded neatly on a table. Curious, he grabs it._

_It is cloak. A dark, hand-made cloak, complete with a hood and everything. Figurative-eyebrows raised, he throws it on and is shocked to find that it is a perfect fit. He spins around to test it, and a small _**clunk**_ stops him in his tracks. Below him, something shines (he can see in the dark) and he reaches for the object._

_A locket._

_Jack opens it and almost breaks down again._

_A lone picture, old and battered, stares brightly up at him on the right side. On it is none other than Sally. Sally, and **him**. It appears to be from when they were at least seven. They are seated in the royal throne (at that time, it fit them both perfectly) and their arms are wrapped around each other in a tight hug._

_On the left, there is hand-carved writing, recognizably Sally's. Squinting, he reads:_

**_My love and I. We will be married one day._**

_And so he cries once more._

* * *

_He stumbles into town, unrecognizable. Walking around in a dream-like state, he sees a gathering of people. Curious and somewhat scared, he nears them. Looking up, he catches sight of the stake, having just been extinguished. When he sees his crown lying by the base, he promptly loses consciousness._

_He awakens to the sight of an old plump woman._

_She is a corpse, and beside her stands a little boy, obviously her son. He tries to speak, but she shushes him._

_Two weeks go by before she asks questions._

_"What happened to you?"_

_"I fainted, I guess."_

_"Who're your parents?"_

_"Haven't got any."_

_"Where are you from?"_

_"I don't know."_

_It ends there._

_He spends months and months working for her at a small grocery, until he has enough money to fund a shop of his own. They ask his name, and he replies with "Jack." And because nobody knows the first name of that evil tyrant, nobody makes the connection._

_At the tavern, he overhears people talking about **her**. He listens intently, without seeming too interested._

_"Say, what happened to that girl Skellington used to have?"_

_"The servant? Yeah, I think she fled."_

_"Wouldn't you? Damn. I wish she hid here. It would've been nice to ask her to dinner, y'know?"_

_"Yeah...she was extremely gorgeous."_

_"I know."_

_He misses her._

_When he leaves, the bartender is surprised with the more-than-generous tip he receives._

* * *

Jack only learns of Spiral Hill when he is told that is where the _king's_ body is buried. Despite the fact that he wasn't well liked, everyone still thought they had the best Halloweens under his reign.

_"We'll give him that much; Halloween's just never gonna be the same without him. His tombstone's under the curl of the hill. I think his ashes are there."_

That's what leads Jack to visit the graveyard every night.

Snapping out of his reverie, he walks down the tip as it uncurls for him, slipping underneath it when he is safely on the ground. Putting on his best smile, the skeleton falls to his knees as he stares up at the small headstone that says:

**Pumpkin King Jack Skellington: Burned at stake**

He scowls at that. Why put down such a horrid thing? Angrily, he slashes the part out with a rock.

_Stupid citizens._

He'll get his revenge. One day, the palace will burst into flames and he will personally slay the army who killed his best friend.

_They will suffer._

But for now, he is content with whispering sweet nothings to the headstone, as though it is her.

His sweet, _sweet_ Sally...

"I love you," he admits for the first time out loud, voice sounding odd, "I think I always have. And call me crazy, but I think you loved me, too."

He places a gray flower down on the plot of land where he _hopes_ her ashes rest.

In a way, he hurt himself by banning them to love. If _he_ had admitted it and allowed_ her_ to admit it, maybe she wouldn't have died. And even if she still had, he'd at least remember the two of them as lovers, and he'd have heard her say those three words to him several times already.

_But he didn't._

So now, he is left wondering what _might_ have been instead of savoring the remembrance of what_ was_.

"I'm sorry."

The first time he's ever used those words, as well.

Why did things like this happen when it was too late? _Why?_

"This isn't goodbye forever, though. More like 'you beat me in the race and I'll be catching up.'"

He leans forwards and kisses the tombstone.

When he leaves, it says:

**My love and I. We are married.**

The night goes on.

* * *

**A/N: I can't say I've ever written anything like this. It's actually pretty long, and that's really surprising. **

**My motivation for this...I don't really know. I guess I just figured that's how kings really are, and that Jack is little too Disney-fied to represent a real monarch/tyrant. Sally being a slave to him, the only one he trusts, I guess that's appropriate, too.**

**Ugh, I hate present/past tense writing, 'cause I suck at it. Heheheheh. Spelling and grammar mistakes are hopefully not enough to ruin the story, but if it is, please tell me.**

**I didn't want graphic sex on this one. I didn't want graphic murder, either. It's M because it does have death and innuendo. **

**Why did I imagine Sally as a sex slave? I don't know. But she's loyal, isn't she?**

**Disclaimer: I own The Nightmare Before Christmas...in my dreams. No, Tim Burton does and I'm sure he's enjoying that fact. **

**Thanks for reading!**

**UPDATE (10-16-11): It was brought to my attention that this resembles the story of a song from Vocaloid called "Servant of Evil". I did not realize this until recently, but I can assure you that I did not copy it. Actually, only the ending seems alike, but the rest is okay. And besides, Jack is the evil king, not Sally. Jack and Sally are in love, too, and NOT twins. I always had the idea of killing off Sally for Jack, and I wanted for Jack to see what lengths Sally will go to just to keep him safe. That's it. Again, sorry. **


End file.
